Strange Shadows
by Pelahnar
Summary: Shadows and lightning. Dark cloaks and top hats. Was it real? Or had he imagined the whole thing? And really, did it matter? One-shot.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Tuck Everlasting.**

**A/N: This is based on the scene where Jesse, Miles and Winnie are rescuing Mae and Tuck. It's one of my favorite scenes in the movie, second only to when Winnie and Jesse are swimming, and I really really wanted to write something about it. It's from the Deputy's point of view - as he didn't have a name in the movie, I called him Sam. **

When Sam stopped running, he knew it was too late. He'd been gone too long – like a fool, he'd believed that the kidnappers had actually come back to life after he shot them. He saw now, now that they were far away, that he'd never hit them at all. They were just pretending, in order to freak him out. And it had worked.

How he had managed to miss at such point-blank range…

Sam didn't waste any more time on idle thoughts. The fact was that he had abandoned Miss Foster when she needed him, taken up by idiotic superstitions. He turned around and began running back toward the jail without hope. The young men would've already freed their parents…already taken the girl away again. Nonetheless, he ran on.

When he arrived at the jail, his fears were confirmed. The noose on the gallows swung slightly in the wind, but that was the only sign that Winifred Foster or those Tucks had ever been there. They were gone, all gone.

Cursing himself to an eternity in hell, the deputy set off running once more this time in search of a horse to take him to the Fosters' house. It would be terrible, bringing them news like this just after Miss Foster had been returned, but it would be worse to wait. If only it weren't all his fault.

The journey seemed to take no time at all. "Mr. Foster!" He yelled as soon as he leapt off the horse. "Mrs. Foster!" He pounded on the front door. Mr. Foster opened the door slowly, looking very irritated – dressed in his sleeping clothes; it was midnight, after all. "I'm sorry, Mr. Foster." Sam gasped for breath. "Your daughter – they've taken her again. She said they were going to kill her!" Suddenly something occurred to him. "But surely you knew? She said you couldn't stop them!"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Mr. Foster said with no little anger in his voice. "Winifred is safe in bed. The kidnappers wouldn't dare come here."

"Robert?" Mrs. Foster had a dressing gown wrapped around her tightly. "Robert, what is going on?" She asked coolly.

"Dear, will you go check on Winifred? The deputy says the Tucks have taken her again." With a slight gasp, the woman swept out of the room. She returned a few moments later, a sleepy Winifred at her side.

"What?" Miss Foster asked Sam flatly.

"I – you – but, those men…" Sam trailed off, at a loss for words. "They kidnapped you." He said faintly. "Y-you came to the jail, you wanted protected."

"When?"

"Just now. Only half an hour ago, if that."

Her eyebrows came together. "I've been sleeping all night." She said. "And I'm tired, so if you'll excuse me, I'd like to go back to bed."

"You…_weren't_ at the jail?" Sam asked hesitantly. "You weren't calling for help?"

"No." Miss Foster was the one who sounded irritated now. "If you'll excuse me?" Without waiting for a response, she turned and went back to her bedchambers.

"But I was sure…" Sam paused, then shook his head to clear it. "Whether she was there or not, it doesn't change one thing: the woman – the murderess – is gone and her husband with her."

Mr. Foster sighed. "Thank you for your concern about my daughter, but as you can see, she's perfectly safe. If you've lost your prisoners, then that is your affair. Please start looking for them and let us get some sleep." He closed the door.

Sam went back to the horse, confused and doubtful. Doubting his own memory. It had been so vivid. He had no imagination; he couldn't have thought that up. He trotted back to the station, just to prove to himself that the Tucks _were_ really gone, whether Miss Foster had come that night or not. Their cell was empty.

But now, as he thought over the events of that evening, they _did_ seem a bit strange.

_The girl was pounding at the door, screaming for help. When he let her in, she babbled about how the kidnappers were coming back, how they wanted to kill her._

Which didn't make any sense. If this family wanted her dead, why hadn't they killed her before? And besides, the real Winifred Foster – as opposed to this phantom one – insisted that the Tucks had meant her no harm and that she'd stayed with them willingly. If she really had been kidnapped again, he would've assumed that she had not realized the danger until they returned, but as she hadn't…The memories continued.

_He assured her he would take care of it – what else could he do? He grabbed a gun and hurried out the door, only to be met with the oddest sight he'd ever seen. They were strangely picturesque, these two figures emerging from the dusty street. The wind whipped their extremely theatrical cloaks around and their top hats were clearly visible when the lightning flashed. Visible also were the slightly curved swords that they carried. _

Swords? Top hats? Cloaks? Not to mention the swirling dust and crashing thunder. Not that there hadn't been a storm – Sam checked out the window, just to be sure – but it had framed their arrival so well. Too well. He was surprised he hadn't realized all this at the time.

_They approached – slowly, but not cautiously, not at all. They walked more with a careless swagger than anything else. One looked at the other, expectantly. As if on cue, the other called out, "Come out and meet your doom! Hell is upon you!"_

Sam rubbed his eyes, disgusted with himself. What sort of person said that sort of thing? And why had it all seemed so planned?

_Flourishing their swords, the men began coming closer once more. "Stop right there!" He called back. Despite the strangeness of the scene – surely he'd noticed it, even then – these were the kidnappers, and they had to be kept from the girl. "You're under arrest!" He shook the gun at them – they didn't even seem to see it, both staring right at his face. Thunder crashed._

"_Stay back now! I'll shoot!" They didn't stop, or even slow. Left with no other choice, he shot them, two bullets in each of their chests. The second one –_ could_ he have imagined it? – the second one spread his arms wide even as his brother fell. Daring, no, _inviting_ him to shoot. Which he did, and they both landed on the ground._

Sam reminded himself quickly that they had only been pretending. He'd missed, that much was clear.

_Lightning flashed again, and the first sat up, then got to his feet. He glanced down at where the bullets had hit – where he _thought_ the bullets had hit – and then looked up again, _smiling_, of all things. Even as he did, the second was following suit. He raised the gun a little, uncertain. Would shooting again…? Then the panic took over and he began running, not looking back until he was miles away._

Was it a dream? Was it insanity? Not a dream – he _had_ found himself miles from the police station, and the Tucks _were_ gone. That much was true, so it wasn't a dream. He thought, just for a moment, that it might have been an elaborate act. Winifred Foster was pretending to need help so that he would be distracted by the boys while she…

Set free the people who had kidnapped her, the woman who had killed the man trying to rescue her? Whatever she said, it had to be kidnapping, and she had to know that. And all the evidence pointed to murder. And besides, Sam told himself firmly, Miss Foster had never even been to the station that night, so she couldn't have been involved.

Which left the last option – that he, himself, was mad. He'd seen things that weren't there – in which case, who knew, he _could've_ hit them and they came back to life – and run from them. The _real_ kidnappers had seen him running and taken advantage of his absence. Slowly, Sam let out a long breath and resolved not to mention the details of what had happened to anyone.

He'd dozed at his post, dreamed that the girl had come and the Tucks had been rescued. When he had galloped off to tell her family, they really _had_ escaped. That was the story that he was going to tell anyone who asked.

Determined in this course of action, Sam stood and went to alert the Constable that there had been a breakout.

**A/N: Please review!**


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